


The Ballad of the Red Lyrium Assassin

by enigmalea



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aralathan AU, Arlathan (Dragon Age), Assassination Attempt(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Everyone lives, Fic or Treat 2019, Frottage, Hahahahaha I am so damn devious, I hope you like this!, If You Squint - Freeform, Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe, Jimterrupted Sex, M/M, Other, Red Lyrium, Sort Of, The Masque of the Red Death, Threesome - M/M/M, but there's some medical stuff that might be squicky, dunno how to describe it, graphic medical magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 12:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21197405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmalea/pseuds/enigmalea
Summary: An Arlathan AU.Arlathan never fell and the Evanuris are still free and ruling the world. They have just managed to seal Banalhan and Elgar'nan has thrown a masquerade in celebration. However, things go horribly when an uninvited guest arrives.Solas' eyes swept the crowd. "Do you really think someone stupid enough to attack us while we are at Elgar'nan's compound?" he asked, the last of the peals of the bell still dying out.Dorian barely hid his snort as he procured a tiny cake from the tray a servant offered. "Ma serranas," he whispered to the human bearing Elgar'nan's vallaslin. Her eyes went wide, and she bowed her head slightly, cheeks scarlet. He turned his attention back to Solas. "With your enemies, amatus, I don't believe it's possible to overestimate their stupidity."Cullen shifted, rolling his shoulders and trying to relax. "Dorian's newest social campaign has gathered attention, and since Banalhan has been sealed-""We hope," Solas interrupted.





	The Ballad of the Red Lyrium Assassin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LathboraViran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LathboraViran/gifts).

> **SUPER IMPORTANT NOTE - SERIOUSLY PLEASE READ FOR THE HILARITY** I was talked into signing up for Fic-or-Treat 2019 by my close friend [LathboraViran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LathboraViran/). [LathboraViran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LathboraViran/) and I are in my Discord server for DA fanfic together, and we often plot and share excerpts and discuss headcanons. We joked about how funny it would be if we ended up getting each other for Fic-or-Treat.
> 
> Imagine my surprise and shock and horror when I opened my email and I'd been assigned [LathboraViran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LathboraViran/).
> 
> Let me clarify, the horror wasn't because I had to write for her. Oh no. That was easy. How was I supposed to keep it from her for **AN ENTIRE MONTH**? Day 1, she asked me what pairings my giftee had asked for, and I made some stuff up based on the pairings I asked for. I sent her an anon ask requesting suggestions for what she might like to see (even though I already had a good idea). Meanwhile, I panicked in DMs to nearly everyone else in the server.
> 
> As the month went on I settled on a pairing, tossed out ideas, chose on a plot... all for a Cullrian fic I wasn't planning on writing. But eventually, it became clear that [LathboraViran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LathboraViran/) was going to want to see something of this Cullrian fic I was cooking up for my imaginary partner. She was going to want excerpts and me asking for input... and basically, I was backed into a corner where I had to write two fics.
> 
> So I did it. I did it and I shared excerpts and asked for feedback and a couple of nights ago I shared the full fic in the server and got her input... all while everyone around her giggled and enjoyed the fact that I'd pulled this off.
> 
> I hope no one claims I'm not devious ever again.
> 
> * * *
> 
> **follow me for updates:** [ao3 (click subscribe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmalea/profile) ☆ [tumblr](http://enigmalea.tumblr.com) ☆ [twitter](https://twitter.com/enigmaleaDA)  
**prompt me:** [how to](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/post/185117840754) ☆ [submit](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/ask) ☆ [read on tumblr](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/tagged/my-drabbles) ☆ [read on ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/frillycakes)
> 
> **join me @:** [The Hanged Man Discord](https://discord.gg/U4Y5uCR) for DA fanfic readers, writers, and betas! (Please note the server is NSFW and 18+ only.)

Banalhan had long been plaguing Elvhenan. The Blight - as it was known in Trade - was the most profound devastation the country had seen; the complete and total waste brought by the pestilence ruined the land itself, turning it barren and dry, nearly uninhabitable, as it drove all rational thought from those people it infected, removing all sense of self, all autonomy. The Void which was left in its wake was filled only with the _Song_.

With Banalhan came the Horde; mindless droves of corrupted dwarves, elves, qunari, and humans built only to kill and spread the plague which consumed them. They seemed to move of one hive mind, those twisted, dark creatures, driven by some nameless, faceless force. Their only goal past death and corruption was _women_; poor, unfortunate souls drug underground and fed putrid flesh until they became teaming with it, producing more and more of the soulless creatures.

But worse even than the Horde, than the loss of autonomy, and the Void stricken upon the land was the spread of the insidious red lyrium. It spread so gradually they had barely noticed it, creeping underground, hidden, until it suddenly began to burst forth in massive pillars of angry crystal. It spread like an infection - no, worse, like a cancer - taking root and expanding throughout the country in the same way it took root in the People.

It began simply, with the _Song_. It wormed its way into your brain, whispering promises of strength and power, and _oh_ did it deliver. Better than regular lyrium or so Solas had heard. Fashioned into armor in the right way, it could make one nearly invincible, and weapons fashioned from it were always deadly. But it ate away at its host, driving them mad, working into their body, spreading and _growing_ until they were nigh inseparable. It started as tiny pinpricks of jeweled blood, popping from the pores, expanding, protruding until blood and flesh became hard, hot, Blight-riddled gemstone; until men became massive, unwieldy, lumbering structures. Oh, you were powerful, but you were no longer _you_.

If caught early, before it took root, it could be successfully removed. There would be withdrawal, pain, potential madness, but the victim would live. If not caught early, the sentence was death. The only known exception, Andruil, an Evanuris - one of the most powerful mages in the country - still slumbered in uthenera in recovery. Her savior, Mythal, slumbered with her. The amount of power needed to save her had been too great. Thus, as the two women slumbered, Elvhenan had been left without one-quarter of its leadership.

But the rest of the Evanuris were dauntless and sagacious, and though their People dismayed, they continued on, working tirelessly to combat Banalhan, and its effects on their people and land. Politics in Elvhenan was complex, with relationships and alliances and disassociations spanning millennia. There was more than just scheming and gossiping and posturing and maneuvering; it was a game of chess cloaked as a grand masquerade. Fen'Harel was a master of it, having convinced the Forgotten Ones to surrender for the good of the People. His part in the game (his betrayal of his allies) had led to the current victory being celebrated by Elgar'nan: after centuries of both political and physical battles, the Evanuris had sealed the Forgotten Ones into dragon form and forced them to slumber as seals for the Blight.

Solas should have seen the celebration and posturing coming. With the Forgotten Ones eliminated, their followers would be looking for new leadership, and the other Evanuris had begun recruitment in earnest; they were too stupid to see even with the betrayal, the Forgotten One's followers would rather throw their lot in with him than pledge away their freedom.

"This is asinine," Cullen commented from his right. He spoke in Trade so they would be less likely to be understood by servants as the language was used primarily by merchants, the military, and the upper class. Solas watched the Commander of his Private Guard's jaw clench, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword out of nervous habit.

He'd once been Andruil's man, a member of her private Templar unit, who'd watched her descent into madness as the red lyrium armor she'd crafted had rooted its way into her. He'd abandoned her guard then, sought refuge with Fen'Harel, and sworn off using even regular lyrium. The withdrawals had burned through him as Solas had watched over the man himself, easing his pain with healing magic. It had been dangerous and foolhardy, but he'd come out of it whole, stronger, and incredibly loyal.

"Relax," Solas whispered, quickly capturing two champagne glasses from a passing servant as his eyes swept over the gleaming bronze plate mail accented by the black wolf fur-lined collar of the man's cloak. Cullen rarely wore his dress armor, but when he did, he was a sight to behold. "We only need to make a quick appearance-"

"We _shouldn't _be making an appearance," Dorian grumbled from his left. Dorian had fled Tevinter in his youth and later fled service to Falon'Din once he'd realized the man was a megalomaniac. He was a shrewd and powerful mage, whose skills in necromancy came close outpacing even Falon'Din's. "The more you appease them, the more they will believe they have _tamed_ you."

Solas forced a lascivious smile on his face as he leaned close to Dorian to whisper, "which is precisely what I want, vhenan." Better those watching believe Solas and his lovers were simply being a bit _naughty_ in public, rather than arguing about whether they should even be in attendance.

He followed the motion with leaning close to Cullen and holding out the extra champagne glass to him so that he had something to do with his hand rather than grip his sword anxiously. "Drink, vhenan, and try to breathe deeply. Just a few more hours and we can go home."

Cullen took the glass, fingers brushing his lightly. "Good. The security here is abysmal," he mumbled.

If someone had told Solas he'd have two human lovers millennia ago, he'd have laughed in their faces. Though Elvhenan once consisted only of Elves, the incursion of human tribes had spread quickly throughout the land, along with dwarves who had ventured to the surface, and the qunari invaders from the north. None of them could hope to succeed against the might of the Evanuris, and thus far only Tevinter had ever attempted.

The "war" had been laughable but had led to the development of the Templars and their abilities as the human mages had stood no chance against those reinforcing the physical world. The Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones had joined forces briefly and thrown the entire might of Elvhenan against the tiny upstart tribe, and they'd surrendered quickly. They'd rewarded them for their attempt - a tiny portion of land - and the fledgling society had tried to become a human equivalent to Elvhenan.

To this day, there remained pockets of human settlements among the elves, scattered tribes that did not wish to move to Tevinter. Humans eked out an existence as second class citizens, often throwing themselves into service of the Evanuris out of desperation rather than any true belief they were gods; same for the dwarves and the qunari among their numbers.

With Fen'Harel, however, they found themselves as equals. Whether it was because they had recognized the faults of their former masters or because they had come to Solas on their own, neither Cullen nor Dorian were eager to worship him; they had seen Solas not as a God, but as a man. It had been irresistible.

The clock, somewhere deep within the apartments in which the celebration was being held, chimed, its ominous tones echoing throughout the chamber. It was loud enough and distracting enough the musicians paused in their performance and all activity stopped until all eleven deep tones had sounded.

Solas' eyes swept the crowd. "Do you really think someone stupid enough to attack us while we are at Elgar'nan's compound?" he asked, the last of the peals of the bell still dying out.

Dorian barely hid his snort as he procured a tiny cake from the tray a servant offered. "_Ma serranas_," he whispered to the human bearing Elgar'nan's vallaslin. Her eyes went wide, and she bowed her head slightly, cheeks scarlet. He turned his attention back to Solas. "With your enemies, _amatus_, I don't believe it's possible to overestimate their stupidity."

Cullen shifted, rolling his shoulders and trying to relax. "Dorian's newest social campaign has gathered attention, and since Banalhan has been sealed-"

"We hope," Solas interrupted.

"We hope," Cullen conceded, "the other Evanuris will likely turn their attention back to stopping your progress against slavery. With Mythal and Andruil still in uthenera…"

"What our dear Commander is trying to say is that now would be the perfect time for a strike, while your strongest ally is out of the picture," Dorian said, voice carefully pitched so that no one could overhear him. He took a bite of the pastry, nose curling up a bit at the cloyingly sweet flavor, before offering Solas the other half.

Solas raised an eyebrow but leaned forward to take the other half of the petit four from Dorian. He pulled back slowly, his eyes landing on a morsel of icing still on Dorian's fingers; he couldn't stop his tongue from snaking out to capture the warm, melted chocolate, lips wrapping around the digit to suck gently.

Dorian's grey eyes widened, and he hissed softly as Solas pulled away, unable to stop a smirk from appearing on his face. "_Fasta_."

"_Fenedhis_," Cullen mumbled on Solas' other side.

Dorian moved so that he was partially obscured by Solas. "My robes are not designed to conceal much, Solas," he grumbled.

Cullen snorted. "Oh really? I doubt anyone has noticed your half-exposed chest or your collarbone or your back."

"Yes, well, I'm more concerned about them noticing something _lower_," Dorian snapped.

Solas cleared his throat, eyes sweeping over the rest of the party, mingling, dancing, _scheming_; he pitched his voice suggestively. "We could find somewhere to take care of that."

"They'd notice we weren't here," Cullen objected.

"Mmm, doubtful," Solas countered. "There are far too many people here and almost an expectation such things will happen. Nearly everyone here has snuck off for at least one tryst so far."

Cullen choked on his sip of champagne, setting the glass on the tray of a servant as he passed. He offered the man a smile almost absently as he said, "at _least_ one?"

"Elgar'nan has disappeared twice that I've noticed; Dirthamen and Falon'Din have disappeared together three times," Dorian volunteered.

Solas turned to look at Cullen, unable to stop himself from licking his lips at the sight of his lover blushing. "I'd say we're overdue, actually," Solas began, "if you're amenable."

"Oh _lanaste_[*](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21197405#work_endnotes)… yes," Cullen breathed.

Solas nodded, "follow me, _ma vhenaan_[*](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21197405#work_endnotes)."

Elgar'nan had changed his palace for the masquerade, spell upon spell woven together by the man and his slaves, the magic layered and seeped into the walls and decor alike. There were seven suites prepared, each with a brilliant color scheme, arranged not in a long and straight line so that one could peer from one to the other, but so irregularly positioned that you could barely see through them, a sharp turn every twenty to thirty yards or so blocking one's vision. Each wall had a tall, narrow window that mimicked the shape of an Eluvian, glass brightly colored to match the decor.

The first room, which Solas, Dorian, and Cullen were now quickly exiting, was a vivid and brilliant blue, the shade of sapphires. Solas led them first through the ornately draped purple room, and then through a room a shade of verdant green which reminded Solas of spring in the plain to the west of the Frostbacks. Each room they passed through became less populated, and it was in the green room he reached for his lovers' hands as he led them onward; with fewer prying eyes there was no need to worry about decorum. The fourth room was furnished and lighted with orange, the magic here recalling brilliant memories of sunsets over the Waking Sea. As they passed into the fifth room, a brilliant and pure white as cold and fresh as new snow, they found themselves alone at last.

Solas pulled Dorian to him as he sunk against the wall; his hands slid down Dorian's back, landing firmly on his ass as he pulled him closer. "_Time to take care of the problem I caused_," he whispered in Elvish before claiming Dorian's lips. Cullen's hands slid between them as he pressed himself against Dorian, lips suckling against the back of Dorian's neck. Dorian moaned into Solas' kiss, hips snapping forward to seek friction.

He broke the kiss, panting softly as he wrapped his arms around Solas' waist. "_Time for you to be punished for the inconvenience you caused me,"_ he teased, nipping at Solas' ear. Even with the warning, Solas wasn't expecting Dorian to manhandle him so that he was sandwiched between his two lovers, his back to Dorian. He gasped as Dorian's hardness pressed into his ass, and Cullen swallowed the gasp as he claimed his lips passionately.

His hand found Cullen's ass, pulling him closer, and Cullen obliged, pressing against him as well as he could with his armor between them. The friction made Solas' head spin, his hips stuttering slightly as pleasure surged through his body. Cullen broke their kiss to lean past Solas, claiming Dorian's lips, their kiss becoming sloppy and desperate. Solas nipped along their jawlines, earning him moans from the other two men.

Cullen planted his hands on the wall next to Dorian, leaning harder into Solas; the armor is biting into his skin, bruising, but still, they weren't close enough. The friction was good, the heat was building, but Solas needed more; he needed the slick slide of skin against skin, of Dorian inside of him, of him inside Cullen. He needed their heat.

His head spun, as he gasped in their wanton open-mouthed kisses. Dorian pressed against him, and Solas shifted, canting his hips so that if they were naked Dorian could enter him easily. Cullen nipped at his neck and shoulder, large hands roaming his body as their hardened lengths slid against one another. He could feel the pre-cum starting to gather, and he moaned softly, leaning his head back against Dorian's shoulder as he closed his eye.

He was so familiar with the sounds and sensations of his lovers, he could recall it with such clarity, his memories very nearly seemed as real as Cullen's gasps and Dorian's hands gripping his hips. His lips twisted into a wicked grin as he willed his memories to life, sharing them with his partners. They were covered in kisses, in the slick slide of tongues against skin, in bites on their shoulders and necks, in fingers stroking, in filling and being filled. Dorian's moan was hot in his ear as Cullen gasped, "_not fair_!"

The shadow of the other person did not register at first, did not break through his consciousness enough for Solas to realize they were not alone. At least not until Cullen let out a low growl and turned to snap at the intruder, "_go away!_"

Cullen froze, inhaling sharply as he gasped out, "Tevene knickers!" The sudden use of their Trade code phrase snapped Solas out of his lust-driven state. With a thought, he summoned Cullen's shield as Dorian's barrier sprang to life on all of their skin, the familiar teal sheen overpowering the white of the room. As Cullen protectively stepped in front of him, Solas suddenly wished for a weapon, and he called his and Dorian's staves to them.

The creature before them was horrifying to behold. Based on its height it had been either human or Elvhen before the red lyrium had overgrown its body. If Solas squinted, he was relatively sure he could make out the distinctive rounded ear tips identifying the shade as once human, but he couldn't be certain with the crystalline structures protruding from its shoulders and head. One eye had been completely encased in red-blood jewel; both arms had been nearly replaced by sword-shaped shards from the elbow down.

It took one shuffling step forward as the clock at the center of the chambers began to chime. Cullen drew his sword from its scabbard. The creature took another step; as it set its foot down the air pressure shifted, bearing down on Solas and anchoring him to the ground; he was bereft of the familiar tingle of mana on his skin as Dorian's barrier stuttered and failed. For just a moment, the feeling of reality being reinforced was disorienting.

It was a _Templar_.

A tiny red shard, no larger than a dart, barely missed his ear as it soared by his head. The metallic clang of shards hitting Cullen's shield echoed in the empty chamber. _Fenedhis_. "_Run_," he choked.

It only took them a few steps to get out of the area its purge affected and as Cullen and Dorian passed him, Solas turned and bore the weight of the Fade down on the creature behind them, a gravity well pushing it down to the earth with as much force as he could muster. The stone of the floor crushed under the weight, but the creature barely stumbled. It appeared to be resistant to magic.

This was not good.

The deep bell of the clock echoed for the fourth time as Solas rounded the corner into the long corridor. Dorian and Cullen stood waiting for him in the sixth room, violet drapes and light casting rich shadows on their faces. "_GO!_" he shouted, unable to keep the panic from beginning to rise. If either of them was hit with lyrium it could be the end of their already too short lives. He could lose them.

"_We're not leaving you_," Dorian declared. The ground split and fire erupted from it with a surge of the other man's will. The creature, which had been gaining speed, stumbled backward. He caught up to his lovers as the creature finally passed the wall of fire, and the three of them bounded down the next hall.

"_I will survive,"_ he argued, as they skidded into the final chamber. The last apartment was swathed in long black velvet tapestries, gathered at the center of the ceiling around a macabre black chandelier. The tapestries draped heavily down the walls and fell onto a heavy carpet of the same color. In one corner stood the clock which had been chiming since the appearance of their mysterious assassin and was only halfway through its declaration of the hour of midnight. The windows in this room were the same ruby red of the Blighted crystals which decorated their attacker, and it cast onto the three of them a bloody countenance which caused Solas' fear to blossom.

He channeled that fear into a wall of ice to block the door, buying them some time as they tried to catch their breath.

"_You will survive, but you may have to enter uthenera, and you'll still be lost to us. We'll be dead before you awaken,_" Cullen protested. He pulled Solas to him, kissing him deeply. "_I will not allow that to happen, my heart_."

The horror struck against the ice with his bladed arms, and the three men jumped. "_As touching as your sappiness is, amatus, I'm not ready to give either of you up. What we need, before that thing gets in here, is a plan,_" Dorian argued.

The ice cracked with the next hit. "_Keep it away from us,_" Solas ordered Cullen. "_If we can stay out of the range of its abilities, we may be able to chip away at its resistance slowly. We must keep a barrier on Cullen at all times_."

They nodded just as the blade sliced through the ice and the creature forced its way through. Cullen stepped forward, planting his feet and holding against the red lyrium monstrosity as Dorian summoned a barrier; the creature was fast, but in spite of his size, Cullen was faster.

Cullen's shield held strong against the creature's attacks from its forearms. With a thought, Solas willed all of the mana he could summon to turn whatever was left of the beast's flesh to stone. Its resistance to magic and the red lyrium in its veins prevented the spell from working completely; only the fiend's feet turned to stone. Cullen took its momentary flailing as an opening to bash it with his shield.

A stone on its shoulder cracked audibly. Cullen feinted back and Dorian took the opportunity to set the creature on fire, the explosion of his immolate damaged Cullen's barrier, and Solas pushed more mana to it. Cullen moved closer, hacking at the creature as Dorian threw lightning and fire in alternating waves, his necromancy no use against an aberration like this. It was no longer moving, but they were barely damaging it, every hack of Cullen's sword dulled the blade, and their magic was scarcely touching it.

The lyrium monster roared and threw multiple shards of red lyrium, lashing out in its rage. Cullen cried out, and Solas' heart leapt to his throat. _No. No. No._

"_CULLEN_!" Dorian cried.

"_I'm fine_," he called, his breathing labored as he stumbled backward. The creature swiped with its bladed forearm, and Cullen blocked with his sword. With Cullen out of the way, Solas brought the brunt of the Fade down on the creature, driving it downward. The crystals cracked and it shrieked in pain. "_ENOUGH_!" Cullen shouted. "_DIE ALREADY_!"

A bright light emanated from Cullen, white and pure; Solas' retinas burned with the brightness of it and he had to look away. His heart pounded in his chest as the light faded, the horror was stunned, no longer fighting, but Cullen stumbled backward, his shield dropping. The next few seconds were a blur as he and Dorian rained magic down on the weakened creature until it split into two, what was left of its flesh smoldering from fire and lightning.

Cullen dropped his sword, then, and hit the ground a moment later. Fear gripped Solas as he forced himself to move forward, to check on Cullen. He was pale and shaking and bleeding from his thigh.

"_You idiot_," Dorian declared as he knelt by his head. "_Why__… why would you-_"

"_I always planned to use my abilities as a last resort; there's still enough lyrium in my bone marrow__… but then I was hit and it… it just made sense,"_ he argued. Solas ignored their chatter, his hands moving over Cullen's thigh to try to visualize how deep the lyrium had gone.

"_I can remove it_," he declared, unsheathing the knife on his belt. The process was delicate. He was vaguely aware of Cullen and Dorian continuing to snipe at one another as he carefully cut around the shard, using his magic to dull the pain.

If this were a regular projectile – a normal arrow or dart - and not a shard of red lyrium, Solas could have simply summoned it to remove it, but with it resistant to magic, he couldn't risk it, especially not since it could be burrowing deeper into Cullen as he tried to remove it.

Cullen cried out as he plunged his fingers into the opening. He pushed more mana into his efforts to dull the pain as he reached. "_I'm sorry, my heart_," he whispered. His fingertips slipped on the crystalline structure; Cullen whimpered, and Solas became aware of Dorian's voice soft and soothing, though he wasn't listening to the words.

"_Only once more_," he promised. His concentration on his magic slipped as he focused on his finger. Cullen's scream of agony echoed in the dark chamber as Solas triumphantly wrapped his fingers around the shard and pulled it from Cullen's leg. The wound began to pour blood, and Cullen's eyes got heavy.

The red lyrium pulsed in his hand, hot and living; he could practically see it devouring Cullen's blood as the roots began to grow, stretching out in his hand. He'd barely succeeded. Hopefully, nothing had broken off inside. He tossed it back to the rest of the dead monstrosity and focused his magic on healing Cullen.

Dorian shifted slightly, making sure Cullen was comfortable as the wound closed fully. "_The rest of the party-_" he began.

"_Stay with him. I shall see_." He pressed a kiss to each of their lips before leaving the black encased room; Cullen's were frightfully cold. His progress back was slow, winding through each of the rooms. The violet and white rooms were empty, but the orange room contained a few victims, some beyond saving and others he could help, the same with the green… and finally, the blue room was a buzz of activity.

The music had ceased, and the room looked more like triage at a field hospital during war than the site of a party. Healers moved throughout the room, saving those who could be saved. Solas exhaled a breath he did not realize he was holding.

He tried to quickly locate the other Evanuris, to determine who was still standing. Could one of them have planned this? Could this have been retaliation from the followers of the Forgotten Ones? Was _he_ the primary target or had it been someone else?

His eyes met Elgar'nan's across the room and the main raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly. They exchanged a subtle nod, acknowledgement they both suspected one another, and Solas took a step back over the threshold into the purple room.

He moved much faster on his way back to Cullen and Dorian, and all but collapsed beside them, placing his hand on Cullen's chest, and leaning his head against Dorian's shoulder. Dorian sat with Cullen's head in his lap, speaking softly and pushing warmth into him. "_How is he?_" Solas asked softly.

"_I feel like shit,"_ Cullen answered just as softly, but he opened his eyes to stare up at Solas adoringly. "_Can we please go home now? I hate parties._"

The snort that escaped Solas was involuntary. "_Yes, vhenan, let's go home_."

**Author's Note:**

> _lanaste_ \- mercy*  
_vhenaan_ \- plural of _vhenan_; my hearts*


End file.
